


The Young Marvels Program

by fandom_in_reverse



Series: The Young Marvels Program [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Iron Man - Freeform, Multi, Nick Fury - Freeform, SHIELD, mcu - Freeform, stan lee - Freeform, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-12 23:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21234296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_in_reverse/pseuds/fandom_in_reverse
Summary: S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury created the Avengers Initiative, which at current is far from completion. While working on the Avengers, he decides to create a program for young superheroes to help save the US if the Avengers are unavailable. Fury starts to work on the Young Marvels Program, but soon has to put both programs into action as an alien terror starts towards Earth and a problem arises in downtown New York.





	The Young Marvels Program

**Author's Note:**

> This book is under some rewrites. I'm posting it now but will probably rewrite some bits in the future. This is also a MCU AU, with several original characters, one of them being Doc Ock's daughter. Her story coincides with the Sam Raimi "timeline" of Spider-Man movies, but I have changed the story to fit more with the MCU. Enjoy nonetheless!

For what it's worth, I was glad to have finished that fight; we have to be clear on that, or you would be lost entirely. I was protecting something very close to me, so saying that I wasn't happy to fight for it is an understatement.

Delia Lynn had said things about my father, who had died back in 2004 when I was ten. She had called him deranged, crazy even, and had called me just like him and that I would go mad just like him. I knew better than that- my father was a 'victim of circumstance' if I remember what my grandfather had said a few years ago. It was my father's fault, but what he had done was out of grief and desperation, so the blame was also on the situation.

So sure, I got in a fight. One of the teachers came and stopped it- he was a new teacher, and he had a terrible stutter, but he ended it. I believe his name was Mr. Daniels, a history teacher. He was flustered and told Delia and me to go to the office and sent others to their classes. As I took my backpack off the floor, Mr. Hurst, the physics teacher and my science teacher for the past two years and friend for three years, came to the scene. I had met him during my tenth-grade year, as I was making my way to the required physical science class, and I had taken his physics class in his class in eleventh grade and his AP physics in twelfth.

"What happened here?" He asked demandingly, his voice carrying over the hushed tones of students.

"Nothing," I answered, huffing as I slung my bag over my shoulder. My eye was sore, and I could feel a trickle of blood run down my lip and chin from my nose.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Mr. Hurst crossed his arms and began to follow behind Delia and me.

"She started it," Delia spat, touching her cheek for swelling.

"The hell I did!" I snap back at her. "Wanna go again?"

"I'll make sure I'll whoop your ass this time!" Delia started towards me, but Mr. Hurst took her by the shoulder and pushed her back.

He sighed and then said, "Go to the office, girls. You can tell me what happens later, Lily."

I nod, sighing myself, and the two of us walked into the principal's office. Mrs. Clay waved us to sit in the seats in front of her desk. She told Delia that she shouldn't have said those things, and told me I shouldn't have punched but excused me from punishment. She excused Delia from the room and asked me for a couple more words. I stayed seated and grabbed a tissue from the box. I wiped the blood from underneath my nose and tossed it into the trash.

"I know what happened with your father," Clay started, "and I know it's been hard for you. Even after all this time, I'd thought you'd get a better handle of yourself."

"It's been seven years, and I was ten at that time. It's not going to get easier," I say, turning towards the window. I experienced both of my parents' death at roughly the same time -they died just a couple of months apart- and living without them was rough. It killed me inside to see them both gone, and the world didn't see him in the best spotlight. I adored my father, and when I was young, I wanted to always be like him. But then my world came crashing down when the police came to the door.

She breathed out and glanced down at her desk. "I will say this," Clay clicked her tongue, "you're a brilliant girl. You're going to be valedictorian when it comes time to graduate. And I as remember, your father was the valedictorian of our class." I was mildly surprised at the fact Mrs. Clay was in my father's class. "But," she continued, "you need to realize that the things that happened in the past are just that- they're in the past. They're no longer obstacles to jump over."

"It's harder when people keep reopening old wounds." I looked back at her and leaned back in my chair.

"That goes with both parties when you take action," Mrs. Clay said with a stern face. "You are smart enough to know this. I can only hope that everything that has happened to you, you will find a way to overcome it. You've gotten into a lot of fights over three and a half years. You have about five or six more months until you get into the real world, and you need to realize that you need to move on."

I sat there and looked at the principal. I leaned forward and said, "I got thrown into the real world when my father died. Don't talk to me about the real world," my eyes started to sting with tears as I thought back to the day we got the news, the day my father's death was thrown at us at our front door. I cried half the night and didn't sleep any.

She was silent and then excused me to go to class; thankfully it was the period I had physics. I went upstairs, counting the steps as I dashed up to them, and proceeded to turn a corner. Mr. Hurst was standing over a table in front of the class, showing an experiment with a transformer. He was explaining further what a transformer does and different types. Each student pair had their transformer, either putting it together or testing it out. The desks were set up in fours and spread through the room. I closed the door to the room and stood there.

The walls were decorated with physics posters, and with several scientists. Past projects were sanding on some of the bookcases, and physics books were strewn in them. The windows were to the left of the room, letting light into the room. The desks were in groups of four around the room.

"Ah, Miss Octavius returns." Hurst looked at me. "You can sit with Jack and Mickey; they're having a bit of trouble." He waved to the table with two boys.

One had dark hair and tanned skin, while the other had flaming red hair with flushed skin and glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The redhead had some facial hair; the other was cleanly shaven. I think Jack was the darker haired one, making Mikey the redhead. I sat down across from them; they looked at me and then the transformer. It had the parts laying around it and was half put together. "So," Jack coughed, "we, uh, need help." He nervously laughed and pushed the object near me. He looked at me and tugged on his black jacket.

I rolled my eyes at them. "What do the instructions say?"

"They're foreign to us." Mikey pushes the paper to me. Mikey's glasses looked off, and his eyes looked different now that I sit in front of him: the right glass was tinted, and the same eye's iris was more significant than the other.

I took the instructions and scanned it, then proceeded to tell them how to get the transformer together. I tried to tell them how to in terms they could understand. They seemed to understand better, though I had to nudge them sometimes. Jack looked to take an understand a little more than Mikey; some people were just more inclined in some areas on different degrees. I pointed out areas they needed to fix better and gave them advice when we were doing anything like this in the future.

"Learn the terms. That seems to be your all's biggest problem." I laughed off, laying the instructions down.

The bell to second rang, but the three of us didn't stand up. This physics class ran for two periods. As break ended, and everyone else returned to their seat, Mr. Hurst went on. "The transformers you all created are still transformers, but their simplified versions of the bigger ones. The ones in front of you are still functional, and this period, we're going to watch them work, then watch the bigger ones in videos."

The class went up, set by set, to test their transformers. Each was a mild success, with some working better than others. Jack, Mickey, and I went up to showcase ours. Jack placed it on the table a hooked the wires up. It started to work, then began to create a whirring noise. Something must be pushing against the fans. Jack held it for a few seconds, and it started to run smoothly.

"Mr. Kelley?" Hurst called out.

"Sorry," Jack let go of the transformer, and it started to make the whirring noise again.

The videos that Mr. Hurst started to play were long, and though I liked physics, I was utterly bored by them. The narrator was monotonous and slow, and drug on about the most minute things. I pressed a finger to my eye, finding it swollen. I had felt it grow worse throughout the period, and thought it radiated some heat. I didn't know what grandma and grandpa were going to say about it.

Mr. Hurst stopped the video as the period was about to end. "That's it for today," he clapped his hands together. "Today we learned about transformers, but not the ones like the movies show- Optimus Prime, for example." The class laughed. "But now you are a little smarter today, and that's all that matters. Tomorrow, we're going to learn about transformer equations, so be prepared."

The bell rang, and the class was free to go. Hurst called me to his desk and asked, "What news do you bring from Mrs. Clay's office?"

"She put us both off with a warning," I answer promptly.

"And the shiner?" He pointed to my eye.

"Is it that bad?" I ask, my hand moving to it.

"It's pretty bad," he laughed. "You could see that thing for miles."

I sighed, a common thing today, and placed the back of my hand over it. It was colder than my palm, and that's all I worried about.

"I just hope you leave unscathed any further the rest of the day," he wishes. He gave a quick smile as both of us parted ways till lunch. I usually took refuge in Hurst's room to escape the likes of Delia and her small gang.

Two more periods pass, and as the lunch bell rings, I pull out my cell phone to call my grandmother. She answered with a quick "Hello?"

"Grandma, it's me," I answer.

"Oh, hey, Lily. Is everything okay?" She asked. Her voice was a little concerned.

"Yeah, I, uh," I couldn't exactly lie to her, she would know later, "I got in a fight earlier." I rubbed my right eye as I told her this.

"Oh, god, are you alright?" Her voice was more concerned now as she inquired.

"Yeah, I got a black eye and got a bloody nose," I answered. "Mrs. Clay understood everything, and I didn't get in trouble." I leaned against the wall outside the physics room. One of the students that ate in there passed through the doorway, waving to me. I waved back and attempted a smile.

Grandma was quiet. "Was it about your father? The fight?"

I paused. "Yeah."

"It's okay, Lily. I'm not- I'm not mad," Grandma stated. I could tell she was a bit disappointed, but I couldn't help it. The idea of someone talking about my father was unsettling and made me flustered. I didn't like anyone talking about family; it felt like I was in a sea of ordinary people while I was the outcast, the one to be avoided.

"What about the other one?" Grandma asked. "The one you fought?"

"Delia, got off with a warning," I answered. Another person went into the room, again giving me a smile and a wave.

"At least Mrs. Clay did could've done something about it," she said. "Well, I'll let you get back to school."

"Okay. Talk to you later," I say, mustering myself to sound happy.

"I love you, Lily. I hope you know that."

"I love you too, Grandma."

The two of us hung up. I stared at the phone in my hand. I bit my lip as I tucked it into my pocket. I stood there, looking down at the ground. The fight was my fault, I did start it- but I was going to defend my father. He was my hero, and I never think of him less. When your small, you feel that your mother or father are invincible, untouchable- that is, until you lose them.


End file.
